Trying To Survive
by TonySnark729
Summary: Tony and Natasha deliver an escaped Bucky on Clint's doorstep one day. Clint must try to help Bucky live with himself as he tries to deal with his own demons with the help of a Daredevil and two assassins. [includes Bucky, Matt Murdoch, and Natasha Romanov]
1. Not A Child

So this story includes Daredevil and Bucky as well as Hawkeye, but I chose not to declare this a crossover because it would simply get lost in that section. There's one other crossover with Hawkeye/Daredevil and something tells me that it's been long forgotten and lost in the abyss. So I put my story in the regular section in hopes that more eyes would see it.

This fic is based off of Matt Fraction/Aja's Hawkeye, as well as the Hawkeye comics done by Lemire/Perez. The Daredevil is (very loosely) based off of the Netflix show, and I just decided to throw Bucky into the mix as well. 

* * *

Chapter One: Not A Child

. . .

Clint poured himself some coffee, nowhere near ready to deal with the day yet. He looked over at the man in the living room who was curled up on the couch and silently debated if he should go over there.

He had practically slept on the couch since he arrived here two months ago. It didn't matter that Clint had let him sleep in his bedroom; the man seemed more content sleeping on the couch.

He bit his lip hesitantly. The man was most likely still awake and just half-watching the television. That was his usual state.

Clint took a sip of coffee and then walked over to where he was laying, and knelt down to look at him, eye-level. "Hey, Bucky. How are you holding up?" When the super soldier didn't answer, he sighed gently. "I made coffee. If you're hungry, I can make pancakes or something."

There was a long silence before Bucky finally spoke.

"Not hungry."

Clint tensed slightly. "You need to eat, man. You haven't eaten in a while. If you eat something this morning, I won't bug you to eat again until dinner."

Bucky seemed to be contemplating this bargain. Clint knew it was impossible to make him eat three meals a day, so he would be satisfied with two meals if it meant that Bucky would eat at all.

"Fine."

As much as the archer hated one word answers, he would take it. He walked back into the kitchen and started to mix the pancake mix together before he spilled some onto a pan. He found the news on the television distracting so he turned the radio on low so just he could hear it. A part of him was grateful he had forced himself to put his hearing aids in today.

He piled pancake on top of pancake until he had finished and then got the milk and orange juice out of the fridge. "Come and get it."

Bucky rolled off the couch and headed into the kitchen before taking a seat on a stool in front of the small island. He ate in silence, his metal arm occasionally making a clinking sound every time it came into the contact with the countertop when he cut himself off a new bite.

Breakfast was a quiet affair as Clint delved into his own pancakes and an egg that he also had made for himself.

He cast a cautious eye up and down his friend. Bucky's hair looked slightly greasy and there were dark circles under his eyes. The man also looked underweight. Not that Clint thought that he looked any better but he was more concerned for him. He drank some more coffee and then cleared his throat.

"Still having nightmares?"

Bucky didn't meet his eyes and pretended to be especially interested in his pancake. Clint watched him poke at it before he nodded.

"I still have mine too sometimes." He silently scolded himself; this wasn't about him. This was about Bucky. "Have you been sleeping at all?"

The man shook his head and then shrugged in afterthought. "Sometimes. What are your nightmares about?"

Clint instantly regretted having mentioned anything. He searched Bucky's face and watched as he finished off the last of the blueberry pancake. "Hey, umm… why don't you go shower and get some clean clothes and we can hit the grocery store or something?"

Bucky finally met Clint's eyes but was silent for a long time. His eyes were apprehensive, bordering on challenging.

"Answer my question first and then I'll shower."

Clint raised an eyebrow and took his plate before setting it on top of his own. "No, no bargaining. Come on, we need some more food. Go shower."

Bucky sighed heavily and then exhaustion met his eyes. "Just… go without me. I'll be fine alone."

The archer chewed on his bottom lip in doubt. He thought back to the last time he had left Bucky alone. He had come home to find that Bucky had a fit of rage and broken a lot of his glasses and mugs and blood all over his good hand. He had refused to go to the hospital so Clint had to take the shards of glass out of his hand with tweezers and bandage him up.

Bucky had been so scared that Clint would be angry. He had locked himself in the bathroom and it took him a solid hour to talk him into opening the door so Clint could patch him up. All that time with Hydra traumatized him.

"Come on, man. Come with me. I need you to pick out food that you'll eat. I know you don't like the food I have here. If you come with, I'll get you something small."

Bucky took a sip of his own coffee now. "I'm not a child. You can stop trying to bribe me."

"Well are you coming with me or do I have to find you a babysitter?"

This made Bucky smirk ever so slightly. If Clint hadn't been looking at him, he would have missed it. "Fine, I'll come along…"

"Thanks, man," he saw the nervousness laced in the other man's face and then added, "It won't take long. In and out. Promise."

Bucky nodded and then finished his coffee before he got off the stool and headed towards the bathroom to shower. While he did that, Clint washed the dishes and put it away before he got dressed and shut the television off.

When Bucky came back out, he looked the cleanest that Clint had ever seen him except for a small amount of scruff on his jawline and chin that he hadn't shaved. It didn't matter; Clint realized that he felt just as nervous as Bucky looked.

Bucky was unpredictable about going out in public. It was Russian roulette with him. Sometimes he had panic attacks, other times he was fine. He pulled on his sweatshirt and then pulled on his shoes.

"Ready? Lock the door behind you, okay?" He made sure his voice was soft and kind. The last thing he wanted to do was remind Bucky of those Hydra assholes.

The two men walked down the street a ways until they made it to the corner convenience store and walked inside. He grabbed a basket and started to put coffee, sugar, and cereal into the basket.

Clint could practically feel Bucky's breath on his neck. He was standing that close to him. This wasn't a new routine for them, though. If it helped Bucky feel safe and protected, then so be it. Ever since Bucky came back, it had been one thing after another to try to get him to get back in a normal routine again.

Between the occasional fits of rage, the insomnia, and the ex-Asset's anxiety and his paranoia, nothing seemed normal anymore. He had been just as surprised as anyone when Bucky had shown up at his doorstep with Tony Stark and Natasha both on either side of him.

" _It's just temporary,"_ they had told him. _"Just until things settle down with Hydra."_

"You okay, Buck?" Clint asked as he grabbed a couple boxes of mac and cheese and also placed them in the basket.

"Y-Yeah," Bucky stammered in a whisper, clearly not okay. "I think w-we're being followed though…"

Clint slyly glanced behind him, pretending that he had gone to the wrong aisle, and cast a look in the direction where Bucky had been looking. He saw a man who was trying to decide which tuna packet to get.

He turned back to his friend and leaned in to him, keeping his voice low. "We're not being followed. It's your paranoia again. You're okay, man. Just keep breathing, all right? Just a few more things and then we're out of here. Hang in there."

Clint grabbed a package of frozen ravioli and then some milk before he couldn't fit anything else into his basket and deemed their task finished. He quickly paid for everything, had Bucky grab the bag, and then started out of the store with him.

Seeing Bucky's uneasiness, he thought for a minute. Bucky had to be getting cabin fever. He hadn't gone out of Clint's apartment in Bed-Stuy for almost three weeks. It definitely wasn't helping his paranoia at all.

Bucky had then started to walk towards Clint's apartment but Clint stopped him gently and turned him around.

"Wait… I have an idea. Let's go see Matt. You've met him before. We can just hang out there for a bit and relax before going back home."

It wasn't exactly getting out since they'd just be going to yet another apartment but at least this would get Bucky some fresh air and a change of scenery. He glanced around to check Bucky's reaction and although he seemed nervous still, he nodded.

Clint hailed a taxi after what seemed like hours, and when they were on their way into Manhattan where Matt Murdoch lived, Bucky finally spoke again.

"I don't know why we're even going to see him. It's not like he can see us…"

The archer turned his head in surprise to look at Barnes now. "He still has bizarre superpowers so don't fuck with him, and don't say that to his face either. I thought you would like him."

"Why?"

Clint shrugged. "Why don't you like him? He's a decent guy."

"He's a blind superhero. It seems like he really got the shit end of the stick of life. Why did you think I would like him, though?"

Clint chewed on his lip anxiously, not wanting to tell Bucky the truth in case it might trigger something. "I don't know. He's just a nice guy, Bucky. There's no reason not to like him."

He knew that Bucky was still suspicious but he was grateful when the cab pulled up to Matt's apartment in Hell's Kitchen. He paid the driver and got out before he headed inside. It was a quiet walk up the stairs and Clint was able to feel the tenseness between them.

"What's up, Bucky? Why are you hesitant about coming here?"

He paused when they arrived at Matt's door and turned to face the man. He shrugged and looked down at his shoes, his breathing was subtly erratic. As Bucky looked down, Clint saw him clench his hand into a tight fist and then unclench it again, something he did when he was anxious. For a brief moment, Bucky looked like a small child and Clint felt his heart ache for him.

"I'm not leaving you here by yourself or anything. We're just stopping by to say hi and we're just going to talk for a little bit. You don't have to stay around us or anything and he's not going to hurt you, okay? I'll be inside with you the whole time."

This seemed to put Bucky's mind at ease and his body loosened up a little before he nodded now in understanding. He took a deep breath and then let it go just before Clint finally knocked on the door.

It took a few moments but Clint smiled when he saw his friend, even if Matt couldn't actually see him.

"Hey, Murdoch. I hope you don't mind us dropping by like this…"

Matt stepped aside to let both men inside. "Not at all. It's good to see you guys again. Please come in."

Bucky looked around cautiously, as if there would be Hydra men waiting for him around the corners. He walked over to the living room and turned on the small television before he curled up on the couch, keeping the volume low.

It seemed to become his go-to comfort technique. Maybe white noise helped distract him from his anxiety. Whatever the reason was, Clint was grateful for it.

"Would you like some coffee or tea or anything? Maybe a beer?" Matt offered as he led Clint into the kitchen.

"I'll never turn down coffee. It's getting cold outside anyway. Do you need help or anything with it?"

Matt smirked now, knowing better than to be offended. He gestured at the general placement of the coffee pot on the counter. "I know how much you love making it. Be my guest."

Clint chuckled in embarrassment now but started to make it as a yawn escaped from his mouth. "Is it that obvious?"

He saw Matt smile a bit before the lawyer glanced into the living room and paused for a bit, maybe trying to sense Bucky's physical state. "Is he all right?"

"You tell me, man. He's lost some weight and I've been trying to get him to eat but it's like pulling out teeth. He's barely slept. I don't know what to do," Clint answered quietly before pressing the 'on' button on the coffee pot so it would start brewing.

"It's going to take a while for him to adjust to living with you. He's used to living in a confined area with guards around him all the time. I'm not surprised he's still having nightmares and isn't eating."

Clint sighed and leaned against the countertop, feeling helplessly. He rubbed his temples as a headache was starting to form. "I don't know how to help him. I don't know why Stark thought that it'd be a good idea to hand the kid off to me. What the hell am I going to do with him?"

Matt frowned slightly but leaned against the counters beside Clint so they could still keep their voices down.

"Tony's probably still reeling from the whole wormhole ordeal. That would make anyone question their beliefs. Everyone else is busy Avenging. They probably figure that you don't have anything better to do," Matt suggested.

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose. "Like I don't have anything to do? I do stuff."

Matt smirked and chuckled now. "I don't think drinking coffee and not sleeping counts as doing stuff. By the way, have you considered that maybe you can't sleep yourself because you drink so much coffee all day?"

It was Clint's turn to frown now but it was more of a pout. "How do you know I've been having trouble sleeping?"

"Well I know you've yawned at least once and you've already had your morning coffee or else you'd still be at home, probably in your pajamas still, so even coffee can't touch your tiredness. Plus, it's obvious how worried you are about James, so you're probably losing sleep over him," Matt analyzed.

Clint whistled in impressiveness and poured a cup of coffee for himself before pouring one for Matt and placing it in his hands carefully.

"Those are some class A Sherlock observations. Anyway… it's not like I don't have my own shit to worry about. I got bills to pay and it's not a secret or anything that I live in a shitty Brooklyn apartment. Even your kitchen is bigger than my whole apartment."

Matt took a sip of coffee before he moved over to the counter and placed the mug on it. "Don't you get Avenger-pay or something?"

"I do, once every few weeks, which is just enough to pay my bills and get some groceries but by the time I do all that, I'm pretty much broke for three more weeks. It's a vicious cycle. I've tried talking to Stark about it, who told me to talk to Fury, who told me to talk to Maria Hill, who told me that she can't do anything about it. I don't know how they determine who gets paid what and when, but it's just not enough," Clint complained, taking a drink of his own coffee.

Matt nodded in sympathy. "I would help you out, but… we haven't been getting many clients lately."

Clint shook his head but then realized Matt probably couldn't see that. "It's fine. Don't worry about it, Matt. I know you would help if you could. You've got your own bills to pay. I get it."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what to tell you. Maybe ration the money a bit more? Pay a couple bills two or three days later than usual? That might help."

"Yeah… thanks." He had hoped that Matt would have been able to lend him some money but Clint also understood how difficult the situation was for both of them.

There was a comfortable silence between them as they sipped their coffee. Finally, Matt spoke up again.

"Would it help you any to keep James here with me? Maybe you'd have time to get a part time job to help with your money trouble?"

Clint hesitated now. He couldn't dump Bucky off here with Matt after promising not to leave him. He took a shaky breath and swallowed hard. "Thanks for the offer… but… I need to think about it. I don't know how Bucky would react to that. I think he needs time to trust you first before I do that."

Matt nodded again. "Okay, that's fine. I just thought I'd offer."

"Yeah, I know. I appreciate it, Matt. I just need to think about it."

The two men talked about happier things for the next hour and a half, even laughing occasionally and joking before Clint realized how quiet Bucky was. He felt somewhat jittery now after having two more cups of coffee with Matt, and placed his cup in the sink before he stood up.

"I think it's time we went back home now. Thanks for the talk and the coffee."

Matt smiled. "Of course. Drop by anytime."

"Will do," he walked into the living room and saw Bucky still laying down. He gently prodded him. "Hey, come on. Time to go back home, man."

Bucky seemed thankful for this and shut the television off before he headed for the door. Clint followed behind him.

"See you later, Matt."

"Bye, guys."

As soon as they were outside again, Bucky appeared to breathe out a sigh of relief. Clint gently patted him on the shoulder.

"I'm proud of you, Buck. You hung in there. You did good. See?"

Bucky just nodded silently as a cab pulled up to their curb and quickly got in the back seat. Clint told the driver where to go and then looked out the window, thinking.

He could barely take care of himself. How was he going to take care of his friend?


	2. Get Your Shit Together

Chapter Two: Get Your Shit Together

. . .

It was only seven-fifteen and already it was not a good morning. Clint was laying in his bed with his arms above his head, having just woken from a nightmare. He was falling, falling off a building, and he was completely out of arrows. Just as he landed on the concrete, he had opened his eyes, sweat beading his forehead and his chest heaved. He looked around him, suddenly despising the silence, and reached over to the table before he grabbed his hearing aids and put them back inside his ears.

Once he had positioned them to a somewhat comfortable position, he felt his heart sink; He could hear Bucky hyperventilating in his room through the paper thin walls.

It was a mixture of crying and wheezing, which meant that Bucky was most likely having one of his panic attacks. Maybe going to see Matt wasn't the best idea after all. Maybe going to see him caused this.

Clint listened for a few more minutes, just to see if it was lessening but if anything, it seemed to be getting worse. He rolled out of bed and then walked out of his bedroom and gently opened Bucky's bedroom door before sticking his head inside.

"Hey, it's just me. Can I come in?"

He registered a short nod of Bucky's head and then slipped inside before he walked over to his friend and then knelt down in front of him. Clint knew better than to touch him, at least right now; he had figured that out the hard way in their first week together though. He could feel the pain in his shoulder from where Bucky had dislocated his arm.

Clint watched him rock back and forth and rub both his palms on his thighs.

"You're James Barnes, and you're safe," Clint started to recite, looking straight into Bucky's eyes. "You're safe, and Hydra isn't after you. You're living with me in my apartment in Brooklyn, New York."

"S-Steve…. W-where's Steve?" Bucky half cried, half yelled, shaking his head in confusion.

"Steve Rogers is safe. He's not in New York right now but he's alive and safe, and you'll see him again, all right, man? You need to try to breathe, Buck. It's time to do what we practiced together. Do you remember?"

Bucky thought for a minute and nodded as the hot tears rolled down his cheeks, his palms still furiously rubbing the tops of his thighs over the fabric of his pajama pants.

"Okay, good. It's time to do that for me now. In for four seconds through your nose, out for seven through your mouth, right?" When Bucky nodded in acknowledgement, Clint let out an encouraging smile. "Good, okay. Do that right now."

He watched as Bucky started to do the breathing exercise to come down from his panic attack. Bucky did this several times, Clint giving a nod each time he did. "Y-Your… fault…"

Clint felt his stomach clench and slowly nodded, guilt in his eyes. "I know. It's my fault… maybe you weren't ready to go back over there again. Does Matt make you uncomfortable?"

Bucky continued to the half-staggered breathing and shrugged.

Clint ran a hand through his hair. "I'm really sorry, Bucky. I didn't think. I didn't do it to make you uncomfortable. I thought maybe going to see him would help make you feel like you weren't so alone."

Bucky searched Clint's face, still trying to breathe. He swallowed hard and hiccupped. "W-What do you mean? Why did you think it would h-help me?"

Clint shrugged now but kept eye contact with his friend.

"I just thought if you saw someone with another disability, even if it isn't mental, maybe you wouldn't feel so alone. Maybe… it would help you with the nightmares and paranoia and attacks. I don't know. I didn't want to hurt you. I just… wanted you to be able to relate to someone."

Bucky had started to calm down a bit before his eyes looked genuinely confused now. He reached over and suddenly touched Clint's ear with his fingers, lightly tapping on it. "You h-have a disability too, or have you forgotten?"

Clint smirked now. "I guess I don't consider it that much of a disability. It was debilitating when I was younger but I feel like Matt's worse off than me. Even with his super senses, it has to suck more not to be able to see."

Bucky looked at a loss for words but he gave a weak smile, quiet for a while. His breathing had finally settled down and he took a deep breath before he spoke. "I don't need to relate to anyone, Clint. I just need some help until I can be normal again."

Clint thought back to how he felt right after Pietro Maximoff died. He didn't want to tell Bucky that he'd never feel normal again, but then again, neither of them were on medication for their mental issues. He didn't have the heart to tell him that this type of thing was not likely to go away on its own.

"Yeah… right," Clint nodded before smiling back weakly. "Well I'm here for you, Buck. I'll help you… and Matt will too, if you choose to let him. He's not a bad person. He can be trusted."

Bucky bit his lip and looked away but he nodded in acknowledgement, even if he didn't believe Clint. He wiped away the stray tears that were on his face and cleared his throat again. "Did I wake you?"

The archer shook his head. "Nah, I was awake."

He decided to leave out the part that he had had a nightmare. There was no need to turn the focus onto himself right now. Bucky was going through a harder time than he was. He could handle his nightmares.

Bucky narrowed his eyes playfully in disbelief but thankfully decided to let it go. "I'm going to go shower."

"Good idea. You smell horrible," Clint teased.

Bucky punched his arm lightly, or rather Bucky's version of lightly, and then stood up before going into his private bathroom. Clint stood up and then headed into the kitchen before he took out his hearing aids and set them on the counter.

After turning the coffee on, he decided to make scrambled eggs and toast for two of them. He had just started to turn the eggs over in the pan when he saw a light flash out of the corner of his eye.

His phone. It was Matt calling.

He quickly put in his one hearing aid and then put the phone to his ear before rolling the eggs over again in the pan. "How do you even know what buttons to press to call me?"

There was a soft laugh. "Magic. How's James doing?"

"He had a panic attack this morning, but I think I might have gotten you off his shit list. I believe this is the part where you thank me," Clint smirked to himself.

"You can stop being so pleased with yourself, Clint. If it helps him to like me though, then thank you. How are you doing this morning?"

Clint's smirk fell now as his stomach flip-flopped. "I'm fine."

"That sounded reassuring," Matt replied sarcastically. "Are you really fine or are you fine in the sense that you're down spiraling?"

Clint scrapped the eggs onto two plates now, tempted to tell Matt the truth. He was probably the only person he would tell the truth too, if he was honest with himself. The Daredevil had seen him not long after Clint had come home after the Sokovian incident.

Needless to say, it hadn't been pretty.

Clint had nonstop nightmares and he had been eaten up with guilt. If it hadn't been for Matt taking care of him, Clint wouldn't have eaten anything at all, and he would still be practically catatonic.

"I had a nightmare this morning," the archer admitted hesitantly.

There was a short pause now. "About Maximoff?"

Clint pushed the toast down and then leaned against the counter. "No, this one dealt with the New York ordeal with Loki, except it was different. I was pushed off of building, and I fell. All my arrows were gone, and I just kept falling."

"Did you wake up before hitting the street?"

Clint tensed up a bit. "Yeah, I did. How did you know?"

"It's a common dream to have. A lot of people have falling dreams where they wake up before hitting the bottom. It just means you're stressed out about stuff," Matt reassured. "You're probably just stressed out about taking care of James. Have you thought about calling Natasha and seeing if she could help you?"

Clint heard the water shut off in the bathroom.

"I've thought about it, but… I feel like that would mean I'm giving up on him. He'll know that I can't handle him and it might just make him worse. I don't want to do that yet, not until I have no other choice."

"What's your other choice right now?" The other man asked, worry laced in his voice.

Clint nearly jumped when the toast popped up but he grabbed the butter and a knife and started to butter them. "I don't know. Suck it up, swallow it down, and hope for the best?"

"That sounds healthy."

"Shut up. I didn't ask for your opinion, blind man," Clint joked.

"Blind man, real original. I haven't ever heard that before," Matt teased back.

"Just wait until after I've had my coffee. You don't want to mess with me then. I can come up with a whole bunch of witty names to call you then."

"Yeah, all right, all right. Calm down there, Hawkguy. I'm off to work now. I'll talk to you later."

"Sounds good," Clint watched the bathroom door open and Bucky come out. "Talk to you later."

He hung up and then pushed a plate of eggs and toast over to Bucky before he poured coffee for the two of them. He sat down on the one side of the counter so they could eat together.

Bucky poked at his eggs with his fork but didn't eat any. "Matt?"

Clint nodded before taking a drink of coffee and shoveled eggs into his mouth.

"How is he?"

"Since meeting him yesterday? He's good." Clint shrugged. "He asked how you were."

"What'd you tell him?"

Clint took another sip of coffee. "I said you're hanging in there."

Bucky looked skeptical but seemed to accept the answer. He set his fork down now and sighed heavily. This was the usual routine after the man had panic attacks or was depressed. Sometimes it was hard to time which one it was, or if it was both, but either way it was a warning sign. Looking back now, Clint realized that Bucky not wanting to eat yesterday had been a warning sign for his panic attack, so he guessed maybe it was the depression kicking in now.

"You need to eat, buddy."

"I ate yesterday," Barnes objected, sounded like a tired little boy.

Clint placed some more eggs onto his fork.

"Yeah, but you see. There's this thing that other people do, called eating every day. It's something you need to do in order to not die from malnutrition…"

Bucky glared at him now. "I don't need a fucking lecture, Barnes. Just leave me alone."

Yep. Definitely a depression day. Or week, whatever.

"If I left you alone, then you would die. You'd never eat. I'm just trying to help you. I don't want you to die. In fact, that's the last thing I want, and not just because I'd be charged with murder."

Bucky was quiet now, just staring at his food. He then started to just sip the coffee instead. Clint shook his head and took the coffee from him.

"What the hell?"

"Coffee decreases appetite and you need to eat. If you're going to eat something, then you can have the coffee but you can't just drink coffee. Take small bites, if it helps you but you're going to eat something. Do you want something else to eat?" Clint offered.

Bucky suddenly launched the plate off the counter with his metal arm and let it shatter on the ground. "No! I don't want anything! Stop trying to feed me, Clint! I don't want any of it."

He stood up and knocked over his stool before he watched Bucky leave the apartment, slamming the door hard behind him.

Clint sat there in shock at first before his brain processed what had just happened. Bucky shouldn't be out there alone. If Hydra was still looking for him, it was a good way for him to be taken. He swallowed hard and tried to fight off his own panic attack now. He kicked the shards of plate on the floor and yelled in frustration.

Maybe if he hadn't pushed food onto him like that, Bucky wouldn't have walked out. It'd be Barton's fault if someone kidnapped or killed Bucky. He started to pace now, his mind racing. What had happened while Barnes had been showering? How had his head twisted up so fast? He seemed okay again right before he took a shower. Maybe that's just how bad thoughts got loose, from overthinking under the warm water.

He tried to take his own advice and do the stupid breathing exercise he always Bucky do but he couldn't make himself do it.

 _Go out there._

 _You need to go out there and find him._

 _He'll die if you don't._

He wouldn't eat if no one else pushed him to. Clint didn't know how severe the depression was, and with the panic attacks and Bucky's own nightmares, who knew if it would push him over the edge to really hurt himself?

Clint still paced and tears started to make trails down his face and he soon felt paralyzed with his fears. He almost tripped in egg before he walked over to the counters and slid down them, holding his legs into his chest as he screamed into them helplessly.

 _Get up, Barton._

 _Get your ass out there and look for him._

Clint tried to force himself back up but his muscles were atrophied; he couldn't make himself move. It was like his lungs controlled his leg muscles. He was trapped in his shitty fucking kitchen in a panicked state and he couldn't move.

His brain felt like it was in a foggy haze.

By the time he had finally regained his senses back and his breathing and settled down, the sun had just begun to set and his apartment was filled with semi-darkness. He looked around, trying to remember what had happened.

"I-I'm Clint Barton… I live in Bed-Stuy in New Y-York. It was my fault Pietro died. It was my fault Bucky left. He's gone. He's dead."

 _No. Don't fucking say that._

 _He's not dead._

 _He can't be._

 _That isn't a true statement; it isn't known for sure._

Suddenly, he heard his phone ring and he reached for it on top of the counter from his position on the floor.

"H-Hello?"

"Clint, it's Matt. Do you know that James is over here? I asked him but he's not talking at all."

The archer breathed out such a sigh of relief that he almost felt like crying. At least he knew that his friend was alive. "H-He's at your place? Okay… umm… I-I'll come and get him."

"Clint, are you okay? What the hell happened?"

The man rested his head against the cupboard under the sink, quiet for several moments as he tried to process everything.

"Barton? You there?"

Clint blinked and coughed. "Y-Yeah. I'm here. I'm fine… we just… had a fight this morning and he stormed out." He forced himself to stand now and cringed at the pin and needles in his foot. "I'll get dressed and I'll be there relatively quick if I take rooftops the whole way."

There was a murmur of talk before Clint hurt Matt's voice again. "Okay, look. I don't know what happened, but… come on over and stay for the night. Go home in the morning with him. I think you need to stay with me tonight."

"Why, Matt. I had no i-idea you thought of me like that," Clint weakly joked, but knew his shaky voice gave him away.

"Come on, Clint. No jokes. This is serious. I can tell you're not in the best shape right now. Take some breaths, take a cab and stay with me, just for tonight."

Clint heard a loud thud now in Matt's background. He swallowed hard. "What's going on? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine. He just doesn't like the idea of seeing you again, but I'm telling you to come here right now. We'll have a beer and we'll just talk. It'll be okay, but I don't want you to be alone tonight because I know there's something you're not telling me," Matt sighed.

Clint took a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair. The last thing he wanted to do was take a cab anywhere. His body felt so exhausted and his brain felt numb. "Fine, but I'm only doing it for you, and him. I'm not doing it for myself."

"I know you're not, but thank you. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah," Clint hung up and groaned tiredly before he forced himself on his feet, pocketed his phone, cleaned himself up a bit and then took a cab to Hell's Kitchen.

He wanted to see Bucky again, even if the feeling wasn't mutual. It was enough for him to know that Bucky was still alive and somewhere safe. That was the motivation it took to make it all the way there. When he arrived at Matt's apartment, he paid the driver and got out before heading all the way upstairs.

Clint knocked on the door and it wasn't too long before the door opened and he saw Matt.

"Hey, man." He stepped inside when Matt stepped aside and then closed the door behind Clint. "Where is he?"

Matt threw his arms up helplessly. "I think he locked himself inside my bedroom. I heard him walk in that direction and then a door locked. Want a beer?"

"Yes, Matt. I do," Clint sighed as he sat at small table and waited for Matt to hand his beer out to him after taking the lid off of it.

He took a long drink from it and waited until Matt did the same.

"So, talk to me. What happened?"

Clint began to tell him everything about what happened since he had woken up that morning, including about Bucky's panic attack, and then his tantrum he had at breakfast. He even told him the part where Clint had frozen in panic and he had stayed on the floor all day. When he had finished, he saw a concerned expression spread across Matt's face.

"You can't keep pretending you're okay when you're not, Clint. You can't take care of James if you can't take care of yourself. That's evident from today," Matt replied not unkindly. "Let me take him off your hands for a few days, until you can straighten yourself out."

Before he had finished, Clint had already started to shake his head even though he knew that Matt couldn't see him. It felt natural to just do it anyway. He took another long pull of his beer and looked down at the table.

"I can't do that. That would be me abandoning him. I won't do that. I'm the only one he trusts right now."

"I get that, but it wouldn't be you abandoning him. I'd tell him that you're coming back. You can tell him tonight even! Maybe call up someone and have them stay with you when you go back tomorrow," Matt suggested softly.

"You don't get it, Matt. I'm sorry, but you don't. I need to be here with him."

Matt Murdock was looking at him in frustration now. He sighed but it looked like he wanted to either punch the table or punch Clint. He couldn't blame his friend either way. "I _do_ get it, man. I do… you care about him. You care about him as much as I care about you, and I'm saying this as a friend. Take care of yourself first. Get yourself together. You need some time apart. You can stay here tonight with him, like I said, but tomorrow, you go back to Brooklyn and you stay there until you feel like you can handle him again."

"You need my help! You won't know what to do when he has panic attacks or anger fits. He'll hurt you!" Clint spoke in a hushed whisper, trying not to raise his voice.

Matt leaned in closer now, forcing his voice and his face to sound and look calmer than before. He reached his hand out and felt around before he placed his hand on Clint's shoulder.

"I've figured out who to do enough shit by myself growing up blind. I've had lots of practice and my super powers helps with the other stuff too. I'll be able to handle myself just fine without you, Clint. I really wish you knew me enough to that, though."

Clint sensed disappointment now in Matt's voice and it just made him feel worse than he already felt. He sunk into the chair and took another drink, wanting to just drown himself in alcohol. Matt was right; he should know better than to think that his friend couldn't handle himself. He was stronger than Clint was. He felt disappointed in himself.

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are, Clint," Matt gently squeezed his shoulder. "You can still visit. This isn't you abandoning him forever. We talked about this before, remember? You thought maybe this would be a good idea. Now's the time to test it. If I need your help, I'll call you."

Clint nodded and swallowed hard before he finished off his beer.

"Can I see him now?"

"If you can get him to open the door for you, sure. If not, then I think we'll both be sleeping in the living room tonight."

Matt's statement had the reaction he had wanted, making Clint crack a weak smile now. He patted his shoulder before retracting his hand now. "Go ahead, man. Talk to James. Maybe it'll help him. He hasn't talked to me at all since I came home to him."

This made Clint stiffen a bit. "How did you know it was Bucky and not some junkie scum trying to rob you?"

Matt smirked and scratched his temple. "Well considering that he didn't try to attack me when he saw me, I'm assuming it could've only been him. It was only after he saw me and I told him to sit tight when he locked himself in the bedroom."

Clint relaxed a bit now and then started towards the closed door. He knelt down in front of the door and knocked it gently.

"Hey, Buck. It's Clint… I'm sorry, all right? I'm… sorry about earlier today, at breakfast. I was in the wrong, and I'm sorry I was trying to force food on you,"

No answer from inside but Clint could hear movement. Maybe he was listening.

"I-I get scared too, man. You wanted to know what my nightmares were about, remember? They're about falling, and not being able to save the people I care about," Clint confessed softly. "I worry about not being able to save you, but… I don't want to go into that right now. My point is, it's not your fault that I made you run away. It was mine… because I can't handle my own shit."

There was a few minutes of silence again before Clint heard the door unlock. When he gently opened the door, he saw Bucky standing nervously by the bed, his arms crossed in front of him as he shifted his weight from one leg to another.

Clint thought about closing the door behind them but knew it was useless. Matt would be able to hear everything they said anyway. He stayed a safe distance away to give Bucky his space.

"I'm really sorry, Bucky. I want to take care of you, but… I'm having trouble taking care of myself right now. There's things going on that I haven't really been letting you in on, and… I think Matt's right. I need to help myself before I can help you. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Bucky looked scared and anxious. "Y-You're going to leave me here. You don't want me to stay with you anymore?"

Clint took a few steps closer towards him now. "You're only half right. I am going to leave you here, but it's not because I don't want you to stay with me anymore. It's only temporary. This isn't forever, man. I promise."

Bucky pressed his palms into his forehead and groaned, trying to process this. When he looked back at Clint, there was hurt in his eyes. He waited for Bucky to have another angry fit but it didn't come. Bucky had tears coming down out of the sides of his eyes for the second time that day.

"How long?"

Clint thought for a second, trying to give him a solid answer but all he came up with was a pathetic shrug. "I honestly don't know, Bucky. It could be a week, it could be a month…. I don't know. I'm sorry."

"I can't do anything with that!" Bucky cried. "I only came here because it's the only other place I knew how to get to besides your apartment… I didn't want to stay here until you can get your shit together…"

Clint felt more guilt start to eat away at him. He moved closer to Bucky and suddenly wrapped his arms around him before pulling him close. "I'm sorry to do this. I don't want to do it either but it's the right thing to do. I wish my own father had done it with me when I was younger. I'm staying here tonight with you but tomorrow I'm going back to my own place. I'm going to come and visit though. I promise."

Bucky reluctantly put an arm around Clint but it was loose.

"Is this my fault? Is it my fault that you're leaving me here?" His voice was almost inaudible and it made his heart ache to hear Bucky ask this.

He shook his head instantly against his friend's shoulder, still holding him close. "No. This isn't your fault. This is mine. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm going to get my shit together and then you can come back. Do you trust me?"

Clint felt Bucky nod now before his grip tightened and turned into a mutual embrace.

"Good. Thank you… it'll be okay, Buck. We'll take the living room tonight so Matt can have his bedroom, all right?"

Bucky nodded now and looked around, as if he was just realizing that he had locked himself inside of here. He was reluctant to let Clint go so he let Bucky hang onto him as he led him out of the bedroom and into the living room.

"You're all set, Matt. Thanks for calling me."

Matt waved at him and started to head towards his room. "Night, guys. Let me know if you need anything. I put extra blankets on the couch for you."

"All right. Thanks, again. Goodnight."

Clint let Barnes have the couch and he took the floor close by so he was still within touching distance. He waited until he heard Bucky's breathing even out before he let himself relax. It was going to be one of those nights though where he wouldn't be able to sleep.

Not tonight.


	3. I Promise

Chapter Three: I Promise

. . .

Clint wanted to make this as quick and painless as possible so he quietly stood up and decided to just make coffee for Matt and Bucky before he slipped his shoes on. He had just turned to head towards the door when he heard footsteps behind him.

 _Crap. He had been seen._

He let his hand drop from the door and turned around to see James Barnes walking towards him. Clint smirked slightly at the man's messy bedhead before he felt arms embrace him now in a meaningful hug. He hugged Bucky back and patted him reassuringly.

"It'll be okay. _You'll_ be okay… and if you're not, you can always call me or tell Matt, and he'll call me," Clint patted him again before he gently released himself from the embrace.

He searched Bucky's face and seeing the sadness in his eyes made him want to forget about leaving at all, but Matt was right; he needed to do this, for both their sakes. He couldn't help his friend until he helped himself.

"I'll see you soon?"

God, the question in his voice made him sick with himself.

He nodded firmly. "Yeah, of course. I'll visit here and you can always come visit me," After several moments, he also added, "Behave for Matt. He may not be your friend yet, but he's mine, and he's always been there for me. Help him out whenever he lets you."

Bucky nodded obediently now before he turned back around. There was a part of Clint that wanted to stop him but knew better. He'd never get out of here if he didn't leave right now.

He finally opened the door and forced himself to walk quickly, never stopping until he eventually made it to his apartment in Bed-Stuy. Once he arrived inside, he already cringed at how quiet it was without his friend. Usually Bucky would have the television on.

Clint tapped his fingers on the counter anxiously before finally deciding on making coffee for himself. He swallowed hard, waiting impatiently as he watched it dripped into the pot.

 _You're a screw up._

 _You can't even help the kid because of your own personal demons._

 _You're pathetic._

Clint ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes tight, trying to will out the voice in his head that told him he wasn't good enough. That voice that had his father's voice. The voice that haunted him constantly.

He suddenly walked into the living room and flicked the TV on before he walked back into the kitchen, calmed down a little bit at the sound of background noise.

How was he going to do this?

He then felt a vibration in his pocket and took it out quickly, his heart sinking when he did not see Matt's name, but felt hope rise in his chest when he saw his other friend's name.

 _Nat – 1 message_

He opened up the message and read it:

 _Hey, up for some lunch or maybe a drink?_

He smiled to himself before writing back:

 _Come by my place for some coffee. I just brewed it._ Then, as an afterthought, he wrote: _I could use some company._

MESSAGE SENT.

Clint sighed to himself, wondering where exactly she was. Not that it mattered, of course. She was coming here to see him and he wouldn't feel so alone anymore. It felt like hours but it was probably only half of one when he heard a knock at the door.

He walked over and opened it before he was greeted with a firm hug. He wrapped his arms around her and breathed her in. "It's good to see you too…"

She chuckled and finally unglued herself from him before walking inside his apartment. He closed the door and then chewed on his lip. "Help yourself to the coffee. Literally just made it."

"So you said."

Natasha reached up in the cupboard and pulled down two mugs before adding the sugar and pouring the coffee into each cup.

"So how are you holding up?"

Clint sat on the opposite side of the table and sighed. "Not so good, Nat. I've been having nightmares just about nonstop and earlier yesterday, I just froze and I… I panicked."

She glanced up at him with a worried expression on her face now and placed her hands around her cup. "What do you mean? What happened?"

Clint hated having to relay all this once again to someone but he knew that he needed to get her on his level. "It was my fault but… Bucky and I got into it yesterday morning, and he ran off. I pretty much stood there like a fucking idiot and I just… fell to the floor, frozen. My mind shut off and all I could think of was how badly I screwed up. He went off to Matt's place…"

She visibly tensed now. "Wait, he went to Matt's by himself? Did any Hydra see him or anything?"

Clint opened his hands and shrugged in unsureness. "I don't know. He didn't tell me if he was being watched at any point but I'm guessing he just took a cap the whole way there. He's only been there twice but he knew how to get there. If Hydra did see him, he wouldn't have ever made it to Manhattan. They would have just taken him right there on the spot, so… I don't think anyone saw him. By the way, I'm so glad you're concerned about me…"

She searched his face. "I _am_ concerned about you, Clint. You know that. I always am. For the record, I was going to ask about you next. It's normal to do those kinds of things in difficult situations you weren't prepared for. You froze because you know what can go wrong, and you didn't know how to deal with the sudden change. It's okay, Clint."

"No, Nat," Clint shook his head, disappointed in himself. "It's not okay. I react instinctively during every mission we go on. I don't have time to freeze. There are other lives on the line, and I just can't keep freezing up like that. It'll get people killed."

She looked at him sympathetically and then took a sip of her coffee. She bit her bottom lip before she spoke again.

"It's okay to freeze when lives are not on the line. Bucky's not a complete idiot. He knows that Hydra will always be out there looking for him. No matter how upset he was, he wouldn't have stormed out if he thought he was in danger."

Clint sighed and clenched his jaw. "His life _was_ on the line, and his panic attacks revolve around Hydra being out there looking for him. He only believed that he wasn't in danger because I've been telling that to him over and over during his attacks."

"Okay, so… then you're the idiot then," Nat replied simply, but was trying to ease the tension.

He groaned and then rested his head on the counter, his hands over his head. He just wanted to crawl up in the fetal position. He wasn't exactly regretting having let her in, but it was more of him not wanting to deal with something being his fault again.

"It's the only thing that calms him down," Clint murmured into the small table. "I just wanted to help him."

Natasha gently petted his blond hair. "I know. I get that, Barton, but if you tell Bucky that he's as safe out there as he thought he was, then he won't storm out again… or at least you'll have time to stop him next time. Where is he, anyway?"

Clint forced himself to sit upright again and took a long sip of his coffee.

"Manhattan…"

Natasha's eyes widened a bit in surprise. "He's with Matt still? Is this some bonding thing you're trying out or are you giving him up for adoption?"

Clint scratched his chin where blond whiskers were starting to appear.

"Matt and I talked and we came to the conclusion that I need to help myself first before I can help Bucky. I can't take care of him if I'm frozen to the floor in fear."

"Nice alliteration," Natasha teased.

Clint smirked slightly. "Shut up. This is serious, Nat. I don't know what to do with myself. I'm so fucking lonely, just like I was before he showed up on my doorstep."

"Well, thanks. Not like I've known you for six years or anything…"

The archer shook his head. "I've been lonely my entire life, Natasha. You can be around people and still feel lonely. It's nothing on you. I mean, I know that all you've done is try to help me. Now that Bucky's over at Murdoch's place, my apartment is so quiet. It hasn't even been a full hour yet and the quiet almost drove me insane. I am not kidding when I say I was on the brink of tears."

Natasha took another sip of her coffee.

"Are you asking me to be your roommate?"

Clint shrugged. "Sort of. I mean, just until I'm okay enough to have Barnes back here again."

"So… you want me to be your roommate who also deals with your heavy baggage as well," Nat said pointedly, raising her eyebrows.

"I understand if it's too much for you. You've helped me so much and I don't expect –"

Natasha placed a gentle hand on his.

"Don't be stupid. Of course I'm going to help you, Clint. I'm not just going to be around when things are great for you. You're my best friend and I'm not just going to leave you to rot in your own personal hell."

Clint felt himself let out a breath of relief. "Thanks, Nat…"

"Of course. I've been dying to clean this place up anyway."

He shook his head and took a drink of his now lukewarm coffee. "You're hilarious. Don't think for one moment that you're going to go all domestic on my apartment. It took me years to get it this way…"

"This way? What way is that, messy and cluttered?"

Clint did his best to look offended but it ended up with him smirking playfully. "I think the correct term you're looking for is cozy."

Natasha smirked back and the two of them sat in a comfortable silence, both friends sipping on their coffee. When they were both done, Natasha told Clint to go take a nap while she cleaned up the place (only a little!). He reluctantly obliged and then headed towards his bedroom. He lay on the bed and took his hearing aids out before setting them on the table, along with his phone.

Just a short nap, and then he'd be good to go again. Maybe he'd even call Bucky up and talk for a bit. He closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep.

" _Why won't you stay, Clint?"_

 _A fifteen-year-old Clint Barton looked down at his younger brother. He hesitated and then shook his head._

" _I just can't, Barn. I don't like it here. I don't feel safe."_

" _You're safer here than at Dad's…"_

 _Clint looked down at his muddy shoes and toyed with the half broken hearing aid in his ear. "Who said I'm going back to Dad's? I'd never go back there after what he did. Don't be stupid."_

 _His brother Barney looked down at his own shoes now, his face full of shame now. Clint looked around to make sure they weren't being watched before he hugged his brother and then knelt down to meet his eyes._

" _Look, I just have to do it. You're safe here so don't leave unless you absolutely have to. Behave for them and just tell them that I ran off but you don't know where, okay?"_

 _He watched as Barney nodded obediently now and then hugged Clint tightly._

" _It'll be okay. This isn't forever. I'll come back for you, I promise."_

Clint awoke with a start, breathing heavily. He picked up his phone and saw that nearly four hours had passed. He tried to relax but his heart was racing inside his chest and felt sweat matting his forehead. He rubbed his eyes with his palms now and tried to control his breathing but he was finding it difficult.

He sat up now and felt the vibration in his body as he tried to take a breath, the thoughts of how he abandoned his brother still swirling around in his mind, making new holes in his lungs with every passing minute.

 _Great, he could help Bucky come down from his panic attacks but he couldn't take his own advice to help himself._

 _How typical._

He clenched his hands into tight fists, feeling at a loss of what to do. He took gasping breaths and he felt tears running down from the sides of his eyes.

 _Fuck._

 _Not right now._

 _Way to be a man, Clint._

Of course it was right at this moment when he saw Natasha peeking her head inside, apparently deciding to check on him. She pushed her whole body through the door when she saw Clint's current state. After glancing to the bedside table, she began to sign with her hands when she sat on the bed in front of him.

\ _You're okay. Deep breaths_ /

He tried to just focus on her signing but he felt like his lungs were about to burst. He shook his head now and started to sign sloppily through his tears:

\ _Can't_ /

She shook her head, refusing to accept this.

\ _You can. You need to. Breathe, Clint_ /

He tried to focus through his blind panic. He closed his eyes now and inhaled through his nose for five seconds before exhaling through his mouth for seven. If Bucky could do this, so could he. He didn't have a choice; he had to do it if he didn't want to end up in the hospital. There was nothing more embarrassing than going to the hospital for a panic attack that he could eventually get under control at home.

He did this for several minutes, his body shaking, and then opened his eyes to look at Natasha.

She smiled in encouragement and nodded for him to keep going before signing:

\ _Good. Keep doing that. You're doing so good_. /

He continued the breathing exercises until he could feel his lungs inflate with oxygen again. He leaned down and placed his hands on his knees. He could feel her eyes watching him with gentle observation and felt her place her hand on his arm.

Finally, sick of signing back and forth, he shoved his hearing aids back into his ears and then sighed heavily. "Thank you, Natasha."

"You don't need to thank me, Clint," she smiled warmly before she held his hand in hers. "So what caused it this time?"

He half shrugged and was quiet for a long time, looking down at his shaking hands.

"My brother… I-I told him the same thing I told Bucky before I left him at the circus. I told him that… t-that I promised. I looked him in the eye and promised him…" Clint forced himself to meet her eyes.

She looked at him gently. "This isn't like that. You were being abused, Clint. You were doing what was best for both of you back then. There was no way you could've found your brother again. You were just a teenager. Bucky isn't states away. He's thirty-five minutes away. This is different, and you're going to bring him back. He's safe there with Matt."

He expected her to say something like this but it helped to hear it said aloud. He couldn't have gotten his brother back, she was right; he was just a teenager. He was trying to emancipate himself and find shelter and food. All he wanted to do was feel safe back then.

"I just don't want to let him down like I let my brother down. Barney expected to see me again. I can't imagine what it was like to be watching out the window every day for me and not see me coming back, and eventually give up hope," Clint rubbed his eyes.

She let go of his hand and then wrapped her arms around him. He didn't want to talk about this anymore so he embraced her as well and breathed her in. She smelled like coffee and Lysol, but he didn't care. She was here for him, which was more than he could say for the other Avengers. Of course, no one else knew what he was going through right now.

"Has anyone asked about Bucky?" he asked in almost a whisper.

She let go of him now and shook her head. "No, I guess they just assume you have it under control. Plus, Stark knows I'm here now."

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you tell him you were coming here?"

She shrugged. "I was with him when you called. He asked where I was going and I figured if something happened to me on the way here, it wouldn't be a bad idea for him to know where I was on my way to. Is that a problem?" Her tone was teasing.

He shook his head, figuring maybe she was right. Then, he scratched the back of his neck, having second thoughts. "He's going to think that I can't handle Bucky by myself."

"He's not going to think that, Clint. He knows you're a big boy and that you can handle yourself. Stark can be an ass but he still has faith in you," Natasha ruffled his hair before she stood up and started picking up around his room.

"No, come on, Nat… not right now. Not here. This is my room. It's sacred ground…"

"Well sacred ground could use a wash. Where's your washer again?"

"Downstairs, in the basement."

Natasha shoved his clothes into a hamper, thinking nothing of it, before she picked it up and carried it out of his bedroom. He was amazed at how much cleaner his room looked. He watched her leave with it and then stood up on shaky legs before he walked into the room he had let Bucky claim as his own when he first got here.

It was neater than his own room and smelled like the same annoying cologne Bucky had picked out his first week at Clint's apartment. He sat on the bed and looked around, feeling empty and sad at how empty the room was without his friend.

He would pull himself together and he would make sure that he could take care of Barnes. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he would do what he didn't do before. Clint Barton was going to keep his promise.


	4. Vicious Circle

_Come on, Clint! Get a move on, son!"_

 _He messily uncuffed his pant leg so it would fall neatly to his socks. He pressed his small palms to neaten his hear before hurried out of the room he shared with his brother. He was stopped dead in his tracks though when he heard the loud swearing of his father echo off the walls._

" _OW! God damn it, Clint!"_

 _He peeked his head out from around the corner to see his father cringing in pain after apparently having stepped on one of his toys._

" _How many times have I told you to put your goddamn toys back when you're done playing with them?"_

 _Clint swallowed hard, tears welling in his eyes and then falling freely down the sides of his cheeks. He sniffled and felt his stomach ache with pain and fear._

" _Get over here, right now!"_

 _Clint forced himself to move his feet but it felt like someone else was doing it for him. He inched closer and closer to his angry father until he felt the man grabbed his arm and pull him forcefully towards him. He let out a soft cry when he felt his father's tough hand on his skin and ended up falling down on the ground where his Dad then turned on him._

" _Are you even listening to me, son? Say something when I'm talking to you!"_

 _Before Clint could open his mouth, he felt the quick, hard surface of his father's fist as it met the side of Clint's head. The other side of his head bounced off the nearby wall and he then lay on the floor, only able to hear a high pitched ringing sound as dizziness engulfed him._

 _He forced himself to look up at his father and saw his mouth moving and an angry look on his face, but Clint couldn't hear what he was yelling. He felt scared, terrified even, but he just said the only thing he could think of, regardless of not even being able to hear his own voice._

" _I… I can't hear anything…"_

 __

Clint awoke with a start and looked around, taking in surroundings. He must have only been asleep for a few minutes, the sun now having risen. Before he had closed his eyes, the sky was brightening but he couldn't see the sun.

His hands were shaking. Maybe too much coffee and too little sleep. Or too little coffee, too little sleep? Either way, he moved towards the kitchen, trying to ignore his rumbling stomach. He wasn't feeling hungry, but he also had only eaten a small amount over the past week.

He had almost made it to the coffee pot when he saw Natasha out of the corner of his eye. She looked awake and showered. How long had she been awake for?

"Clint… you need to eat something…"

He shook his head and suddenly laughed, but he wasn't sure what was so funny. His head was spinning, he felt cold, and shaky. He rubbed his hurting eyes. "No, I'm fine, Nat."

"Could've fooled me."

She walked into the kitchen and stood in front of Clint, blocking the coffee pot. He glared at her now, clenching his jaw.

"Get out of the way. I need my coffee. I can't function without it…"

Nat didn't move but placed her hands on her friend's shoulders. "No, Clint. Not until you eat something. You can't live off coffee alone…"

Clint tried to pull her hands off of him but found that he was feeling weaker than ever, and he barely moved her at all. "No! Stop it, Natasha!" He yelled, shoving her suddenly. "Just let go of the food thing already! I don't need it!"

She stumbled back only an inch from Clint's shove and shook her head. "Look at yourself! You're yelling again, shoving… I'm not an idiot. I know you haven't eaten anything in days and it's starting to show,"

Clint continued to just shake his head, not wanting to listen to her. "I'm fine… I don't feel hungry…"

"After a while you wouldn't!" Natasha urged him. "You're not in a good place. I get that. You need to let me help you, though! I want you to feel your best and I want to be here for you, Clint."

The archer found himself laughing again, maybe out of disbelief. She was right; his head wasn't in a good place. Hell, he didn't even know where it was at. He felt like he was in someone else's body having someone else's thoughts. Everything felt so surreal. He felt angry and he didn't know why. He felt lonely and he knew he shouldn't be.

"Actually, no! I don't need to let you help me because I don't need your help, Nat! I don't care what you want! It doesn't mean anything… just leave me alone!"

She looked scared at first, but she straightened her back. Natasha knew the signs of Clint's depression and he was showing all the signs today. "You're going to eat today, whether you like it or not, Clint. Now sit down and I'll make you some eggs and you can have your coffee. Okay?"

He walked out of the kitchen without giving her an answer and then curled up on the living room couch. He was surprised at how much it still smelled like Bucky.

 _Bucky…_

The name made him feel ashamed of how he was treating Natasha. He didn't want her around right now. He wanted Bucky. Even Matt would be fine right now. Hell, even Stark would suffice. Okay, maybe not Tony, but anyone else except Nat.

She was the one person that could make him feel shame. She knew him too well. He'd been able to hide some of his past from the other guys but hiding it from her was impossible after all they'd gone through over the years. All he wanted was to sleep forever now.

 _No._

 _Maybe he shouldn't think that way._

But it was hard not to. He hated himself for dumping Bucky at Matt's. Clint had only gotten at least thirty texts from Matt since asking how he was, and if everything was okay, to which Clint had put one word answers like "Ok" or "Fine." If he was honest with himself, he wasn't okay or fine. He was the complete opposite of fine. He wanted to destroy himself. He hated himself for being so selfish. He had no right to be.

"Okay, sit up or I'm going to feed it to you like a child…"

Clint reluctantly sat up and watched as Natasha handed him the plate of eggs and set his coffee on the nearby table in front of the couch. She stood there, waiting.

"Are you going to stand there and watch me eat the whole time?"

She shrugged, a firm look on her face. "If I have to."

He glowered at her now and sighed, staring at the food, feeling the temptation to challenge her. Right now, he didn't care they were best friends and that he was being obstinate. Depression makes a person be like this.

"Eat, Clint. Just take a bite. I'm not even asking you to eat it all."

Then, something dark and horrible inside of him made him lean forward and knock the plate off the coffee table, but not before spilling the coffee all over it first.

"Damn it, Clint…"

He watched as she grabbed a bunch of napkins and paper towels and started to mop up the mess, looking exhausted as she did so. He felt a tinge of guilt now but it wasn't enough to actually make him help her.

He was going to be difficult, damn it, and no one and nothing was going to stop him. After all, this is what depression does to people.

She had gathered all the spilled scrambled eggs onto the plate and the paper towels and then made a beeline for the kitchen before Clint heard a loud clash as she dumped the plate and silverware into the sink in defeat. She stormed back over to him now.

"Fine, you want to be a stubborn child and not eat? Okay, but I won't have any part in your starvation. I don't know what to do, Clint. I stayed here for a week and all you did was get worse. I'm sorry but I can't do this anymore…"

Clint felt angry and sad all at once. He shook his head and glared up at her from his position on the couch. "Then leave! Do what everyone else does and just fucking leave, Nat! It wouldn't surprise me in the least."

She looked offended at first and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. "Oh, don't worry. I'm gonna leave, but you won't like who I have come take care of you next, Clint."

"Whatever…"

Natasha looked concerned and scared and angry herself now. She knelt down and placed her hands gently on Clint's legs. "Why won't you let me help you? You don't have to suffer alone. I'm here for you…"

The gentle touch made something flicker alive inside of Clint Barton, but only for a brief moment before the self-hatred flared up again. "I don't want you here for me. I deserve to be alone. I deserve to suffer alone."

She shook her head instantly. "No, you don't. I wish you could see it but I know you can't right now. You're a good person, Clint. You don't deserve to feel like shit and be alone."

He turned his head away from her and crossed his arms in front of his chest. After several minutes, she finally stood up, kissed Clint's temple, and then walked out of the apartment, leaving him alone with his thoughts once again.

When it finally registered with him that she wasn't going to come back, he broke down. Tears made trails down his cheeks just as they had when he had been a kid, and he hugged his legs into his chest and screamed and yelled, and cursed and cried into them. He was alone again.

Of course he was alone again. Who the hell would actually want to be around him?

 _No, stop._

 _That's the depression talking… right?_

 _Yes, it is._

He didn't know how long he had cried into his body, but apparently he had cried himself to sleep, because when he woke up, it was raining outside and there was someone in his apartment. He craned his sore neck and peeked over the couch to see Tony Stark in the kitchen, cleaning up the shards of ceramic that were in the sink from Natasha.

He pushed himself off the couch and started towards the kitchen to the fridge and opened it before he grabbed a beer. "Did you lose the coin toss to Nat?"

The genius inventor looked over after he threw out the shards of plate. "Ho," he said before he grabbed the beer out of Clint's hand. "No alcohol for you. Don't you know that it'll only make your depression worse?"

Clint scoffed now. "What? C'mon, man. It's my house. I'm allowed to drink whatever I want, whenever I want."

Tony smirked and shook his head before he opened the beer and took a sip. "Actually, fun fact, you aren't because of your current mental state."

Clint threw his arms up and pointed to the bottle. "What, so you're allowed to drink?"

"I'm not currently depressed. Come on, Barton. Have some coffee or something instead. I brewed a fresh pot for you, knowing your unhealthy addiction to caffeine."

Clint raised an eyebrow but took him up on the offer. He walked over to the counter and grabbed a mug before adding sugar and then pouring the coffee into it. "Nat didn't let me have coffee…"

Tony leaned against the counters next to where Clint was pouring coffee. "I talked to her and she was going to let you have it if you ate something. What's the plan? Going to lose enough weight to fly to Manhattan to see Barnes?"

Clint sighed and shrugged. "I'm just not hungry."

Tony tapped his fingers on the countertop. "If I remember correctly, you liked to have breakfast for dinner back at the Tower. Do you think you could feel hungry for some pancakes?"

Clint shrugged again and took a sip of coffee, his body forgiving him for the lack of caffeine all day. He stayed where he was and watched Tony open the cupboards, looking for the pancake mix he didn't know he had. He looked for a few more minutes before he finally placed it on the counter.

"Aha!" He exclaimed in success. "Knew you had one. Everyone has at least one box of pancake mix, even if they never eat it. Put the radio on to whatever you want while I whip this up real quick."

Clint walked over to the small radio and turned it on, tuning it to a classic rock station he knew Tony wouldn't mind. "I don't think I've ever actually seen you cook anything, Stark."

He heard Tony laugh as he started to mix the ingredients together and then pour the mixture into a pan. "If I didn't make anything, then I'd starve to death, Barton. Pepper isn't there as often as I'd like her to be anymore, and the only other super friends I keep in touch with is Romanoff and Murdock. Did you know, by the way, that that man is scary? It's hard to trust a guy who can't see you, but still knows what you're doing and what cologne you're wearing."

 _Christ, he was talking too much._

This was going to wear thin for him real fast. He rubbed his temples where a headache was starting to form. "Yeah, no. I want you out right now, Stark. This just isn't going to work for me."

Tony chuckled now as he flipped the pancakes over before he turned to look at the archer. "That's funny… you actually believe you have a choice in this. So cute. Now I can see what Romanoff sees in you."

Clint shook his head. "I just want to be left alone. I thought that, of all people, you would understand the most. Just leave, man. I won't tell Nat that you left if she calls."

Tony was quiet for a bit as he slid the spatula under the pancakes so they wouldn't stick. "I've been where you are, Barton. You're going through PTSD on top of your depression. It's always funny how the symptoms of both mirror each other, though. I know how you're feeling, and I know that it's best if I stay and keep an eye on you."

He flipped the pancakes onto a plate and handed it to Clint, waiting patiently until the other man grabbed the plate before starting his own pancakes.

He sat at the table with his plate and poked at the fluffy pancakes, his stomach growling for sustenance. "You don't know, Stark. Stop pretending like you do. It's insulting."

Tony sighed and then made a plate of pancakes for himself before he walked over and sat down at the table across from Clint. He took a bite, chewed, swallowed, and then looked back up at him. "Oh yeah, I wouldn't know anything about PTSD. I only flew a nuke on my back into a wormhole to save New York from a bunch of Norse aliens, then… I was the direct cause of the utter chaos and destruction of Sokovia and its people, which resulted in the death of one of our own, but I wouldn't know anything about post-traumatic stress disorder, would I?"

This shut Clint up.

He knew all this. He should have known better than to question him. He was an asshole. It was becoming clear now why Natasha chose Tony to take care of Clint; he could relate more to Stark than to her. Tony knew what it was like, even if the 'nuke through the wormhole' story was getting old. It didn't make it any less true.

He cut off a piece of the pancake with the edge of his fork but didn't eat it. "Sorry," Clint replied pathetically now.

Tony sighed heavily and took another bite before he took a drink of his own coffee. "Don't worry about it. I get it. I get the anger, I get the frustration, the… wanting to be left alone… but you just can't, Barton. You can't be left alone right now. If Pepper or Jarvis had left me alone when I was having constant panic attacks and nightmares and days of insomnia, I would be dead, and that's the truth."

Clint didn't doubt it anymore. He could only imagine how stubborn Tony could have been with Pepper and everyone else who tried to help him. He reluctantly took a bite of the pancake and chewed it.

"Do you still get panic attacks?"

Tony nodded before he set his coffee back down. "Yep. If I don't get enough sleep or I work too hard in the garage, or if I'm stressed out… I still get them. I don't know it's something that will completely go away. It just lies dormant. What are your nightmares about?"

Clint was quiet for a long time, eating the rest of his pancake and taking sips of coffee before he finally answered. "Mostly about my Dad and my brother, and when I became deaf."

Tony bit his lip now and searched the archer's face with sad eyes. "You know, when you had me make you Stark tech hearing aids, I didn't mind. You're a friend and when you told me that you had become deaf because of an accident, I didn't prod. At the time, I just assumed it was none of my business and I made them."

"You want to know how I became deaf," Clint asked, although it came out more of a statement than a question.

Tony nodded once and turned his full attention onto Clint now. "Yes. I would like to know."

Clint shrugged and nodded. "I was six, and my father hit me after stepping on one of my legos I left on the floor one day. When he hit me, my head hit the wall and… that's all she wrote. I couldn't hear anything from that point on."

Tony took this in, and looked at his friend sympathetically. "Good to know shitty fathers are universal, or rather, not good. What happened after that?"

Clint took another drink from his coffee. "We were poor, so… he got me the cheapest, shittiest hearing aids he could afford. My brother and I ran off with a group of carnies, I ran away from said carnies when I was sixteen, emancipated myself, found my apartment here, and… then found the rest of the Avengers."

Tony took this in, seemingly swallowing it all down. "Carnies… that must have been interesting."

Clint shrugged and found himself smirking slightly. "It was nice while it lasted. The leader of it taught me how to shoot." He decided to leave out the part where he had been abused by him too.

"What about your brother? What happened to him?"

His smirk fell, and he remembered now why he hadn't felt hungry. He ran his hands through his hair and pushed his plate away before he stood up. "I'm… going to hang out in my room. Make yourself at home."

Tony watched as he started to walk away from him but stood up as well. "What happened to your brother, Barton?" He asked again, this time more firmly.

Clint stopped walking and swallowed hard. He looked down at his feet before he glanced back at Tony. "Story for another day."

And with that, he trudged into Bucky's room and locked the door before he fell into the bed that his friend used to sleep in. He got under the covers and although he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, he closed his eyes.

He had to get better.

He had to bring Bucky back.

How he could these things though when he was feeling so low? He could relate to Tony, sure, but that wasn't going to cure him. He was still going to feel depressed.

He was still going to have nightmares.

He was still going to have panic attacks.

But then again, so was Bucky.


	5. Codependence

Chapter Five: Codependence

. . .

 _He looked back and forth between his parents as they yelled each other, or rather, he watched as his father screamed at his mother who was crying._

 _At least he didn't have to hear either of those noises._

 _He continued to eat his food, seeing his brother Barney occasionally glancing over at him with fearful eyes._

 _A few minutes later, Clint then felt a sharp tug as his father grabbed him by his shirt collar and threw him on the floor. He looked up, seeing his father's eyes full of rage and seeing his mouth move but not hearing anything that came out. He looked like an angry mime._

 _He then felt his brother grab his wrist and the two of them ran outside together._

 _Clint didn't have to hear the footsteps behind them to know that their father was following them out. Clint turned around in time to see his father strike Barney, and then he felt the blow from his father's fist as it collided with Clint's face, knocking him to the ground again._

 _This time, he could taste iron in his mouth._

Clint felt a hand shake him roughly and, half asleep, he reached up and grabbed his attacker's wrist before he opened his eyes to see Tony cringing in pain.

"Hey! Come on, Barton! I surrender…"

"Fucking Christ, Stark," Clint breathed out shakily before he let go of Tony's arm and sat up in bed, running his hands through his sweat matted hair. "What do you want?"

The genius straightened his shirt now and searched Clint's face worriedly. "I just came to tell you breakfast is ready when you are. I would've let you sleep in but you've already done that."

"What time is it?"

"Almost noon. Also, your phone's rang about five different times and I believe you've also got a number of texts as well," Tony remarked, nodding over to Clint's flashing phone.

The blonde haired archer glanced over at his phone and grabbed it before he saw that he did, in fact, have five missed calls and about nine texts as well. He waved Tony out of the bedroom before he shut the door and put his voicemail on speakerphone so he could get dressed while he listened.

First missed call:

" _Hey… umm… this is Bucky…" click._

Second missed call:

" _I dreamt about it again… being the Asset, working for Hydra. I-I can't stop shaking… when are you getting me out of here?"_

Third missed call:

" _I-It's me… again. Sorry I keep calling… I just… I don't like it here anymore. I want to come back home. NO! GET OUT!" click._

Clint's heart sank when he heard Bucky yell at probably Matt. He was buckling his belt up when he heard the last message:

" _Matt's mad at me… he left."_ Long silence. _"I'm sorry, Clint… whatever I did, I'm sorry. I want to come back home. Please…"_

Clint's heart was breaking. He had done this; he had dumped Bucky on Matt's doorstep because he couldn't handle the responsibility on top of his own depression. He took a deep breath before he started to swipe through the texts he had received, all of them desperate pleas from Bucky.

What had he been doing when the kid had sent all of these? He had been sleeping.

He cursed himself before he erased all of them and then put on a fresh, deep purple t-shirt. Clint walked over to where his shoes were laying and started to put them on. Tony raised an eyebrow when he saw this and then walked over to him.

"Wait a minute, where are you going, Legolas? You haven't even eaten anything yet."

"No time. I need to go and pick up Bucky…"

Tony stiffened now and sighed, shaking his head disapprovingly. "You need to take care of yourself first, Barton. You need food and you need sleep, and you need to put yourself first before you can even think of Barnes. The kid will be fine without you –"

Clint turned to the inventor. "He's _not_ fine without me! All those texts and calls were from him, Stark! He needs me. I need to be there for him…"

Tony gave him a hard look now.

"For him or for you?"

Clint rolled his eyes and shook his head before he took a deep breath. "Both, I guess. So… you can go back to your big giant building in the sky now. I'll be fine without you, believe it or not."

"I'm going to choose not to believe that, Barton. You're falling apart and you're codependence on that kid is… astounding, to say the least. You need help, and you need to let me in," Tony persisted.

Clint walked out into the kitchen and grabbed his sweatshirt before he opened the door and looked at the other man. "You're already in, Tony. Do me a favor and show yourself out, will you?"

He didn't wait for an answer before he stormed out of his apartment, slamming the door behind him. He climbed up the fire escape before he hopped roofs as far as he could and then took public transportation the rest of the way to Matt's apartment in Hell's Kitchen. He let out a sigh before he gently knocked on his door.

He heard a soft voice from inside before the door opened.

"Hello, Clint. What brings you around?"

Barton ran a hand through his hair. "I decided it's time to bring him back home…"

"Oh… well, come inside," Matt opened the door wider to let Clint in and waited for him to walk further inside before he spoke again. "It's only been a few days. Are you sure?"

"Positive," Clint replied instantly, looking around for Bucky. It didn't take long to find him.

He walked into the kitchen and saw Bucky drinking coffee. The man looked up at Clint with eager eyes but didn't get up. Great. He had taught him to not expect anything from him since he dumped him here. He walked over and sat down next to Bucky.

"I'll be in the shower, if you need me." Matt shuffled off towards his bedroom and Clint waited until the water turned on before he spoke to Bucky.

"Hey, man… how are you doing?"

He shrugged and then looked down into his coffee.

"I got your calls and texts. I'm really sorry I wasn't there when you needed me, but I'm here now. What happened? It sounded like you were having a difficult time, bud. Want to tell me what's going on?"

Bucky was quiet for a while before he cleared his throat softly. "I… I had a flashback, and… I tried to lock myself in the room and Matt was trying to open it. I-I didn't want to hurt him…"

Clint didn't want to tell him that it'd be a challenge to hurt Matt, so he didn't. Instead, he just nodded in understanding and looked at him. "I'm going to take you home, if you still want to come back with me."

"Yes," Bucky nodded eagerly. "I-I do… I want to stay at your place again. W-Whatever I did, I promise I-I won't do it again. I'll be good."

Clint felt his stomach clench uncomfortably. _Jesus Christ, Bucky thought it was his fault._ Like a kid who had misbehaved and then been dumped off at camp. He felt guilt rising inside of him again but he shook it away, needing to focus on the kid.

"It's not your fault, Buck. I know everything you've gone through and I know it can't be easy. I'm sorry I wasn't able to handle things like an adult before. I just… I'm going through my own ordeal," he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Bucky didn't look like he understood completely but Clint saw him nod, most likely in acknowledgement that he had heard him. He became quiet again, making Clint continue.

"I promise it's not your fault, the things I'm dealing with. Umm… I told Tony Stark to leave, because he's been sort of taking care of me, but… I have a feeling he's still going to be there. Are you okay with that?"

Bucky seemed to think about this but then ended up just shrugging. Clint bit his lip anxiously, wanting to make Bucky's adjustment back home as painless as possible. He leaned forward now ad searched his face.

"Would you prefer if he didn't stay there?"

He could Bucky's jaw muscles clench and then unclench before he saw him look up at Clint.

"He's your friend… he can stay there if you want him to."

Clint leaned back in his chair and looked around the apartment before he looked back at his friend. "That's not what I asked. Personally, I could care less if he stayed, but I want you to be comfortable. Tony may be my friend, but you're my friend too, and in this case, you come first for me. I can talk to him and tell him to just… leave you alone if he stays with us. Would that be all right, man?"

Bucky thought for a moment and nodded finally.

"Good. I'm going to talk to Matt while you pack your things up. We'll leave whenever you're ready." He stood up and gave Bucky's shoulder a comforting rub before he walked towards Matt's room as Bucky went into the guest room to pack up his belongings.

When he got in there, he saw Matt stop momentarily and tilt his head to the side before his other friend spoke first.

"I think you're making a mistake, Clint," he said as he did up his belt.

"You know, I'm really getting tired of other people telling me how I'm making a mistake bringing him back home. It's my home, first of all. And anyway, it's my life, Matt. I'm allowed to do what I want to do with it and if this is a mistake, then so be it. At least it'll be mine to make," Clint shook his head in disgust with everything. "I can't believe that you sound like Stark right now."

Matt raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. "If Tony said the same thing, then maybe you should listen to us. We're just trying to help you."

"Here's the funny thing though – I never asked for it! I don't want anyone's help. All I want is to be with my friend in my shitty apartment. That's all I want…"

Matt sighed in frustration and then put on a white t-shirt before he moved over to Barton. He was looking at Clint's chest but it felt just as bad as if he were looking him in the eye.

"You guys always have a home here, if you need one. I just think it's too soon, for both of you. Bucky's still having flashbacks of being with Hydra, Clint –"

"He's going to have those no matter where he is! They don't go away. At least if I have a panic attack, I won't be alone when I have it…" Clint was about to turn away when he felt Matt reach out quickly and grab his arm firmly.

"You can't put all that on his shoulders, Clint. That's not fair. You're doing this because you think you can help each other but I really think you should reconsider what you're doing."

He broke free of the man's grip and turned to him, shaking his head.

"It's fine if you want to be all alone here, wallowing in your own issues by yourself. Fine, you're stronger than me, all right? Is that what you want to hear? You're stronger than me and you can handle shit better than I can! I can't be alone though. I can't do what you're doing!"

"No one's asking you to!"

Clint could feel his hands shaking now as his heart rate quickened. He was strongly fighting the urge to punch something, or someone.

"Yes they are! Everyone's asking me to be alone right now and I can't do it! I need someone else around! I don't want to deal with this shit alone!"

Matt place a gentle hand on Clint's shoulder but Clint pushed it back off defensively.

"Take a deep breath, man. It's going to be okay. Your friends, myself included, care about you. We just want what's best for you, Clint. We're not trying to tell you what to do. We just don't want to see you or James get hurt," Matt tried to reassure him.

Clint tried to breathe but he could feel his oxygen depleting too fast, as if someone had poked holes in his lungs. He rubbed his eyes with his palms and started to wheeze, trying to shake it off. He didn't want to have a panic attack right now; that would just prove Matt's point, and Tony's… that it really was too soon. He closed his eyes and started to pace, rubbing his hands on his thighs anxiously.

Matt moved over to him quickly, sensing the increase in his heartrate and his panic. He moved him over to the door and opened it, giving him an option to go outside of the room if he felt the need to. Instead, Clint sunk down onto the floor and put his head in his hands, trying to gain control of his breathing again.

After a few minutes, he heard Matt's voice again.

"Why do you need him so badly, Clint? You're a wreck, and so is he… you both need help separately. Being together in your place is a ticking time bomb. It's going to explode and you're both going to get the shrapnel from it."

"I-I don't care… I d-don't care. I just… I just want to be near h-him…"

Matt looked worriedly at his friend and placed a gentle hand on Clint's knee before he knelt down and rested his forehead against Clint's. "You care about him. I can understand that. You both want to make sure the other is okay, but… he can't help you like you can help him. Hydra made that virtually impossible for him. What happens if he has an episode and he hurts you while you're having one too? What happens then?"

Clint was rocking back and forth, nearly hyperventilating. He had always thought about this possibility but the thought itself made him panic. He took gasping breaths for several minutes, struggling to calm down again. He ran his fingers through his hair shakily and he heard footsteps outside the hall and knew that Bucky was ready and waiting for him. He forced himself up, feeling tired and dizzy, but he was at least somewhat coherent again.

"Clint, you really shouldn't leave like this. Please, stay here tonight and then go back home in the morning…"

"No, Matt. J-Just… leave me a-alone…" He growled as he walked over to Bucky and forced himself to display soft eyes again. "Ready to l-leave?"

Bucky nodded somewhat hesitantly but then followed Clint outside. The fresh air entered his lungs willingly and he already felt better. He hailed a cab with Bucky back to their apartment, eating the cab fare. It was better than trying to hop roofs with a recovering attack.

Clint wasn't surprised to see Tony still there when they entered and felt some satisfaction when he saw the inventor stiffen upon seeing Bucky with him. He led them into Bucky's room where the archer helped his friend unpack his things again, mostly in silence as he continued to try to recover from his panic attack earlier.

When they had finished, Bucky was sitting on the bed, his hands resting on his thighs. Clint walked over to him, eyeing him carefully.

"How are you feeling?"

Bucky bit his lip before he shrugged but then took a shaky breath. "Not good. Like I might have another episode. Maybe you should lock me in here tonight, Clint. For your own protection?"

Clint gave a half smile. "Locking you in here wouldn't do much good. You can probably rip the door off the hinges with that arm of yours…"

Bucky smirked a bit, which made Clint feel a bit better somehow. "Just try and relax for a while and I'll call you out for lunch. Take a nap or something, man."

Bucky didn't object but he also didn't move from his spot either as Clint walked out, shutting the door closed behind him as he walked out towards the living room where Tony was sitting uneasily.

"Something on your mind, dear?"

Tony stood up and looked at him in almost disbelief. "You _are_ aware that Terminator in there can kill you the next time he flashes back to Hydra town, right? What you're doing is suicide."

"What is it that you think I'm doing exactly, Tony?"

The genius gave a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "You might not be familiar with the term, Barton, but it's called codependency and you have it in spades! You both are fueling each other's' self-destructive behaviors, whether you want to deny it or not. You're using him as an excuse to keep him here in an environment that isn't good for either of you!"

It was Clint's turn to shake his head. "Oh please, Stark… don't give me that bullshit. Codependency is for drug addicts. Bucky and I are not drug addicts. We've just both been through a lot. We've both been brainwashed, and we know how crippling that can be. We just understand each other, that's all it is. We're on the same page when everyone else is either chapters ahead of us or chapters behind us."

"I don't know what happened with your brother but I'm going to take a while guess and assume that all of this is related to that. I suppose you can also use the excuse of your old man beating up on you to explain how you are today, but… you can't run from each other. Not now…"

"What are you talking about, Stark? No one is running from each other!"

"I'm just saying, when the going gets rough, you can't walk out on him! He can't walk out on you! Neither of you are fit to be out there, alone! Only relying on each other and shutting the rest of us out is unhealthy!" Tony yelled in frustration, gesturing towards the door.

Clint started to pick up the living room area a little bit, putting books back on the shelves and folded up blankets.

"You'd know a lot about unhealthy, wouldn't you? Being scientifically codependent on Banner to talk him into making the Killbot 5000 and all… obviously you do have experience in that area."

Tony sighed heavily, still looking at Clint, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I've never denied responsibility for what happened in Sokovia. I've said over and over again how that was my fault, and yes, we were scientifically codependent on each other. I had a belief, and my paranoia got the best of me; I admit that. This… is just as dangerous. What happens if he goes into Hydra mode and hurts you?"

"Then he hurts me," Clint shrugged. "I don't expect it never to happen. I know we both have our own issues, but… I know what can happen here, Stark. I haven't closed my mind off to it. If he hurts me, he hurts me. He had an episode, the episode will eventually end, and then we'll move on with life, just as we always have before."

"I'm staying here with you. I don't trust him… and I'm afraid if I leave, then nothing good will come from the two of you being here alone together," Tony replied simply.

"Fine, stay here… sleep on the couch, but if you are staying here, then leave him alone. Don't harass him, don't force him to do anything he doesn't want to do, and just… stay away. Got it, Stark?" Clint looked up at him with serious eyes.

Tony looked apprehensive at first. "I won't intervene unless he has an episode."

Barton felt so tired. He was tired of negotiating and tired of fighting with everyone. He was tired of no one understanding him, no one except Bucky. He threw his arms up in the air. "Fine. Whatever… but until he does have an episode, you don't talk to him and you don't go near him or else I'm going to kick you out."

"Deal."

With that, Tony turned and headed into the kitchen to start making lunch for the three of them, and at this time, Clint was quickly found himself regretting agreeing to let him stay with them. This wasn't how it was supposed to be; he wanted it to just be him and Bucky, like it used to be. They found a strange comfort in each other that no one else could hold a candle to. It just felt comfortable.

As long as Stark stayed away from Bucky, he decided to give him a chance. This was still Clint's apartment, and Avengers or not, they were all just trying to survive. Anyway, it was better to stick together than to fight alone, right?

Right.


	6. Pain In The Asset

My apologies for this chapter being so short; I didn't want to cram a lot into one chapter and then have nothing for the next one.

* * *

Chapter Six: Pain In The Asset

. . .

Clint Barton woke up with a start and grabbed the arm of the man who had touched his shoulder only to open his eyes and see Bucky hovering over him with fearful eyes.

"I-It's just me," he whispered in a soft voice.

Clint recognized that tone of voice. Bucky was either coming off a panic attack or he was feeling like he was about to go into Hydra mode. He stiffened, believing too strongly that it might be the latter. He pushed himself up and let go of the other man's arm before he saw the morning light coming in through the window.

"What's going on, man? Are you feeling all right?"

He rubbed his eyes and shoved his hearing aids back into his ears so he didn't have to lip read. He just watched as Bucky shook his head in answer to Clint's question and he felt his stomach twist uneasily. The archer looked up at him.

"What are you feeling?"

Bucky bit his lip hard and then clenched his jaw before he closed his eyes, as if he were trying to ward off an unwelcomed presence. He recognized this appearance and stood up slowly.

"Not good," Bucky replied in a tense voice. "It sort of feels like… I'm… glitching or something. Like, I have a thought, and then I feel a shock, and it's replaced with a different thought…"

Clint searched his face, seeing that he was having difficulty explaining how he was feeling. This sounded like Hydra might do to Bucky. He watched as the kid started to pace in front of him, suddenly grabbing at his hair.

Yep, definitely Hydra's handiwork.

He didn't want to call in Tony. Who knew what he would do to Barnes to calm him down? He didn't want anyone to get hurt. Maybe he could just handle him alone, help him ride it out. He walked over to the door that was cracked open and closed it before locking it and then put a chair in front of the door knob.

He knew, of course, this wouldn't stop a Hydra-fueled Asset with a fully functioning metal arm. He made a side note to ask Tony to defuse it once they got a chance to. First, they had to make it through this morning. He was also aware that this wouldn't stop a determined Stark either, but it would at least slow him down and give Clint a few extra minutes to help Bucky once he started having an episode.

"Hey, who am I, Bucky?" Barnes continued to pace and clenched his jaw tightly before Clint raised his voice a little. "Look at me! Tell me what my name is…"

"I don't…." Bucky glanced up at him with a pained expression, shaking his head. "Y-You're an Avenger," he struggled.

All doubts Clint had had disappeared. There was no question this was an episode of the worst variety. Then, he heard Tony's voice in his head: _What if he hurts you?_

He still stood by his answer though; they would get through this, just as they had since Bucky was dropped on his doorstep.

"G-Get out… y-you can't stay in here with me," Bucky ordered, flinching as if he had just been hit with something.

Clint shook his head. "No, I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to help you ride this out, Bucky. It's going to be okay. We just need to get through this. Just try and stay with me here, in the present. Can you tell me who else is staying here with us?"

Bucky ran his hands through his dark hair and then leaned against the edge of the bed as he tried to fight this too. "A-Another Avenger… S-Stark, Tony… son of Howard and Maria Stark, born April 29th, 1970."

This wasn't good. Bucky was rattling off facts as if they were read to him off a sheet, as if all the information was just memorized, which wouldn't surprise him in the least. Clint moved towards him now and took his arm before he forced him into the bathroom with him and locked the door there too so the two men were locked in together. A part of Clint was telling him this was the worst idea he's ever had but he wanted to be here for Bucky and try and not involve Tony as long as he could.

Better he hurt Clint in here than innocent people out there.

He turned to face him. "Who are you?" He made sure to ask the question firmly.

"T-The Asset," Bucky answered almost coldly. "I am The Asset for Hydra."

Clint swallowed hard and saw Bucky's metal hand clench tightly into a fist before he saw his friend look at him, his eyes empty and devoid of all familiarity now.

"No, that isn't you. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky to your friends, and you are just you. You don't belong to anyone," Clint searched his eyes desperately.

Bucky shut his eyes tightly before he started shaking his head furiously right before slammed his metal hand into the sink, breaking off the edge of it. "No! I am property of Hydra! You… you are Tony Stark's friend."

Next, he heard Tony's voice. "Everything all right in there, Barton? If you're angry, there's no reason to take it out on the sink counter!"

He must have heard Bucky's metal hand come into contact with it. Of course he did.

Clint swore under his breath and ignored Tony before he looked back at his friend. "Come on, man… look at me. You're not anyone's property. Your best friend is Steve Rogers..."

"S-Steve…" Clint saw a flash of recognition behind Bucky's eyes but then it was gone as quickly as it had come back. "Rogers. Captain America. My mission is to kill him and Tony Stark. Lead me to them."

It wasn't a request. It was a demand.

"No… they're _friends._ "

Bucky suddenly grabbed Clint around the throat and slammed him into the same wall the sink was up against. "The Asset has no friends, just missions. Friends are distractions. You're going to lead me to them now! Or I will have to kill you."

Clint could feel his heart racing in his chest, pounding against his ribcage. He could feel his panic rising as he quickly realized he couldn't do this on his own. He couldn't help his own friend. He tried to control his breathing but Bucky's grip around his throat was quickly cutting off his airways. He gripped onto Bucky's arm tightly.

"Y-You… won't kill me, B-Bucky… please, we're… family, man…"

"My family is Hydra," Bucky replied robotically.

He felt dizzy and was about to pass out when he saw another metal hand punch through his bathroom door, but this one was more welcomed. He felt Bucky release him and fell to the floor as he started to cough, struggling to get air back into his lungs while chaos rained down around him.

When he finally got oxygen back into his lungs, he looked up in time to see Tony get punched by Bucky and then saw the inventor roll away before he stood up quickly and shot his repulsor in his hand at the other man, right in his own chest.

Bucky got knocked back and fell onto the floor, then Clint watched in both horror and disbelief as Tony pulled out a red handled screwdriver and jammed it into an opening in the man's metal arm, causing it to spark and screech in a robotic struggle. Then, the two of them looked on as Bucky flinched some and let out a yelp of pain as his own arm shocked him.

They were quiet for several moments, staring at Bucky and making sure that The Asset was gone before Clint saw the terrified look on his friend's face, and then saw the damage he had done.

"Oh god… no… d-did I hurt you…?"

The question was aimed at Clint but Tony was the one who spoke as he dusted himself off, straightening his shirt.

"Yeah, no worries about me or anything…"

Clint felt a hotness around his neck and found it painful to swallow. He was sure to have bruises soon. He moved over to Bucky and searched his face carefully. "Are you okay?"

A laugh of disbelief came from the inventor now. "Really, Barton? Terminator goes homicidal Hydra on you and you ask _him_ if he's okay? Wow, you're something else."

Clint gave Tony a cold glare before he examined Bucky's arm. "Excuse me if I'm worried about my friend since you put a goddamn screwdriver into his arm and fucked it up, Stark."

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Tony put a hand to his ear before the look on his face darkened. "Fucked it up? I don't know if you realize this or not but he was about to choke you to death, and then come after me! It was self-defense, so just… take a chill pill."

The archer shook his head and clenched his jaw before he looked back at Bucky. "Are you in any pain?" When he saw him nod, Clint looked back at Tony. "Fix it! Fix what you did to him, Stark."

"What I did to him? No, we need to take a time out for a second here," Tony cast his gaze on Bucky now. "Sit down, right here, and don't move a muscle, Barnes," he motioned with his finger sternly, as if he was punishing a little kid.

Bucky looked hesitant but he just nodded obediently and slowly slid down against the wall until he reached the tiled floor. Tony motioned for Clint to follow him through the bedroom and then out into the kitchen where he crossed his arms defensively against his chest before he started to speak.

"I saved your life!"

"I didn't need your help! I had things under control!" Clint yelled back at him.

Tony shook his head and sighed before he pinched the bridge of his nose. "You call that having things under control? You locked yourself with a ticking time bomb behind two doors! Do you have a death wish?"

"No, I'm just trying to help him, Stark. I understand the concept of friendship is so foreign to you, but I understand him. He understands me. I would've been able to stop his episode without your help…"

"Bullshit," Tony shook his head. "It's quickly becoming obvious to me that your priorities are skewed, Clint!"

"My priority is Bucky, and that's it. There is nothing else," Clint was surprised at how sure he sounded.

Tony sighed heavily before he ran a hand through his hair and searched the archer's face, his own face softened slightly. "You're going to get yourself killed."

Clint wasn't stupid. He knew that this was a possibility, but he also couldn't just give up on the kid. He knew what it was like to have someone give up on him, and he couldn't bear for Bucky to feel that same pain. He was quiet for a long time before he took a breath and nodded.

"I know the risks of keeping Barnes with me. I've known them from Day One. You have your robots, I have my need to try to fix people that are broken. You are me aren't that different. I just… need you to understand, Stark. Just try to understand, please?" Clint didn't like to beg but this seemed like a good exception.

Tony looked conflicted for several moments. "You can't fix everyone, Barton. I'm speaking from experience. Some people are just too broken to be fixed back into place, good as new. Hydra did a number on that kid, and you have to know that he's far from being fixed."

Clint nodded and looked down before he forced himself to look back at him. "So what now?"

"Well, I'd feel a hell of a lot better if we could get that metal arm off of him, for starters. All his weapons are basically in that arm, and we can unplug him, then he can at least be human again," Tony replied, shrugging.

"Can you do that? Take his metal arm off of?"

Tony's face looked somewhat skeptical. "I can get it off, but… I'm going to need to bring someone else in here to help me. Would that be all right with you?"

Another person he would he have to tiptoe around. Another person that would see Bucky as an experiment, and not as a human being. He didn't like this, but he also agreed with Tony; as soon as they could get Bucky's weaponized arm off, the better for everyone involved.

"Go ahead… call the mad scientist. I'm going back over to him."

Tony waved at him as Clint moved back inside his bedroom and into the bedroom where Bucky still sat, staring at the damaged sink. Barton knelt down in front of him and felt his heart ache as he watched Bucky occasionally flinch in pain. He bit his lip before he searched his face.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

Bucky smirked weakly. "Yeah, you can get this screwdriver out of my arm, Barton."

At least he hadn't lost his sense of humor.

Clint gave him a sympathetic smile. "Yeah, we're working on that. Tony's going to call up a friend and he's going to come over here and help you. I know him too; he's a doctor."

"What if I hurt him too…?" Bucky's smirk had faded and fear had been replaced in his eyes.

Clint chuckled anxiously.

"Then…. I sense that my whole apartment will most likely be destroyed."


	7. Moved

Hey everyone, so this is to let you know that I'm no longer updating ON THIS SITE. I have, however, been continuing this story on another, more document friendly (for me anyway) website.

I've been having issues uploading my files on here so I am no longer on here anymore. Instead, you can keep reading this story by going to: archiveofourown users/Sherlocked729/works (but get rid of the spaces)

Thank you for your support! :)


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